


Take My Heart, Pull it Apart

by sleeby



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Not Ship focused, Self-Harm, fairly graphic self harm, irredeemable woobification of the actual devil
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-11 10:51:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19108180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleeby/pseuds/sleeby
Summary: Chloe’s green eyes were soft and full of concern and he set down the bottle. Although, for what she was concerned Lucifer didn’t understand. He’s not a good partner. He’s certainly not a good friend. Logically she shouldn’t want to be within ten feet of him. Hell, Lucifer didn’t want to be within ten feet of himself. He’s repulsive, but the detective is too good a person to not be worried about other people’s feelings. (Another reason he wasn’t good enough for her, truly.)





	Take My Heart, Pull it Apart

**Author's Note:**

> (Title from Body by Mother Mother)
> 
>  
> 
> **TW self-harm**
> 
>  
> 
> im writing from experience here as a coping thing but i want you all to be safe more than anything

Lucifer strides out of the elevator into the Lux penthouse with a speed just a bit too fast to be casual as he heads straight for the bar. His eyes were unfocused and he couldn’t be sure they weren’t red, judging from the burning rage in his chest. Chloe speeds to catch up with him and catches his arm before he can pour his glass and Lucifer flinches away automatically, looking as if she’d burned him with her touch. His anger was broken momentarily to make room for his rapid heart rate. Chloe’s green eyes were soft and full of concern and he set down the bottle. Although, for what she was concerned Lucifer didn’t understand. He’s not a good partner. He’s certainly not a good friend. Logically she shouldn’t want to be within ten feet of him. Hell, Lucifer didn’t want to be within ten feet of himself. He’s repulsive, but the detective is too good a person to not be worried about other people’s feelings. (Another reason he wasn’t good enough for her, truly.)

Chloe was worrying at her lip but didn’t make another move to close their distance. There had been their...typical trust issues lately, but this case was rough on Lucifer personally. The moment they had arrived at the crime scene his usual quips evaporated. Adam Herrington had only just turned eighteen when his parents kicked him out of the house over religious disputes. He’d been living on the streets for a little over six months and was found beaten to death in an alley a week ago. Lucifer had become convinced it was the father. They’d just come back from questioning the Herrington’s at their home, where Lucifer had got into a screaming match with Mr. Herrington.

Mr. Herrington appeared unphased by the news. His wife was silent beside him as he gave his matter of fact statement. A controlled intake of breath. “Adam was...a bright kid. We had our disagreements, sure, but I loved him.” He made eye contact with Lucifer, who was staring holes into him, finally shattering the thin patience Lucifer had held for Chloe’s sake. Lucifer was seething.  
“You loved him?” Lucifer eyes flashed red and he ground his teeth. “You ABANDONED your OWN SON, YOU LEFT HIM OUT ON THE STREETS!”  
Lucifer approached him, menace dripping from every word until he roughly slammed him against the wall, “DO YOU CALL THAT LOVE, DAD?”  
The room was drained of all sound in an instant. Lucifer, realizing what he had said quickly put the man down and dusted off his suit in a habitual nervous gesture. Anger was still simmering beneath his trembling voice with a new layer of shame as he dismissed himself quickly to return to Lux, Chloe had followed, profusely apologizing to the Herrington’s as she made her way out.

Chloe took a breath. “Lucifer...I know..you don’t like to talk about what happened exactly, between you and your father, growing up.” Lucifer simply stared with wide eyes, wary, as if expecting to be scolded, “I do think you need to talk about it, but you don’t..you don’t have to right now, or with me.” her voice shook and she huffed, “I just...I don’t know what has happened to you in the past, but I know that you’re hurting.” the tears welled unbiddenly. “I want what’s best for you, okay?” Lucifer tilted his head to the side, expression softened to one of confusion. Surely she had enough reason to hate him by now...but the devil knew liars, and Chloe wasn’t one of them. He let out a stuttered breath, “D...Detective, I…” He flexes his fingers, realizing they’d been curled into fists for who knows how long. Lucifer blinked away tears of his own as he made one last scramble for deflection, “I’m very sorry for my outburst earlier, it was unprofessional of me.” Chloe almost laughed, “Lucifer, almost everything about your conduct is unprofessional, all the time.” Lucifer winced, that was probably a poor angle to take if he wanted to be convincing. Chloe took in her normally carefree partner’s hunched posture and shaking hands and decided, fuck it, and the next thing Lucifer knew he was being gently goaded into a hug he didn’t know he needed. Chloe spoke softly in their closeness, “Am I overstepping if I offer to stay here with you tonight?” Lucifer pulls back enough to look at her worried expression, “Darling you know you are always welcome here…” he hesitated, Chloe frowned. “But…?”  
“But I don’t want to burden you with my problems.” He cleared his throat, “Plus don’t you have that small creature to take care of?” Chloe scoffed. “Trixie is with Dan this weekend, it’s fine.” Lucifer still looked unsure. “Lucifer, would I offer if I wasn’t okay with it?” Lucifer rolls his eyes but it holds none of its usual mockings. “I suppose not.” Chloe broke into a relieved smile, “Then I guess I’m staying!” Lucifer gave her an increasingly common expression of absolute wonder. “Yes, I suppose you are.” 

Lucifer blinks out of his stare and gestures nervously to the couch, “Just let me know if you need anything, Detective. What’s mine is yours.” He tries for a smile. Chloe tilts her head at him as she tucks her legs up on the couch, “Alright, Lucifer.” Despite Chloe’s presence, Lucifer still has anger burning under his skin with no way to release it, like an itch he cannot scratch. The last thing he wants to do is scare Chloe, so his typical temper tantrum is off the table. Suddenly he notices the small red crescent indents in his palm where he had been clenching his fists. Now there’s an idea. Lucifer takes a breath and puts on his best front, clapping his hands together, “Well, I’m off to have a shower, unless you should like to join me this time, Detective?” He grins. Chloe scoffs and the tips of her ears go pink. “I’ll pass, thanks.” Lucifer clicks his tongue and begins walking back toward his bedroom, “Well if you change your mind…” 

Once out of sight of Chloe, Lucifer deflated. This is about the only time he wishes she won’t take him up on the offer. He absentmindedly grabs a towel and locks himself in the bathroom. Upon glancing himself in the mirror all of the burning mass of anger and hate rises back up to his throat, prickling under his skin. Renewed hot tears only serve to fuel the fire. The world narrows down to the here and now. He sets the shower to be brutally hot. Uncooperative hands unpackage a fresh razor blade as Lucifer scoffs at his shaking. He supposes he’s never done this before. Well, never so intentionally, save for making certain the Detective was out of range. He always tells the truth, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t fantastic at lying to himself.

He stepped into the shower, hissing as the scalding water burns his skin. He doesn’t think he will ever get used to being vulnerable. The ritual of showering allows Lucifer to let his thoughts focus on why he was doing this. I mean, where do you start, huh? When his father cast him out? When all of humanity began to blame him for every wretched thing upon the earth? Not that it matters, even in the very beginning something must have been wrong with him. He’s never been good enough; he’s fundamentally broken. No one with a good heart could run a place like Hell. Lucifer realizes belatedly that he’s been holding his breath and gasps, his vision swimming with unshed tears. He doesn’t belong here. He doesn’t belong in Hell. He certainly doesn’t belong in the Silver City anymore. Lucifer felt the oncoming panic seizing at his heart, so, as a wise man once said, fuck it. Before he could think about it Lucifer picked up the razor blade and made the first cut on the inside of his forearm, upwards near his wrist. He could feel his heart rate pick up at the same time his thoughts got quieter. He watched with satisfaction as the blood rose to the surface, turning the water red as it washed over the wound. 

After the first cut, it got easier. Lucifer let his mind go blank as he made mark after mark on his arms. Some of them went deeper than intended and he simultaneously loved and hated the pride that he felt over the pain finally becoming concrete. Lucifer didn’t know how long he spent systematically etching neat lines up his inner arms, but when his eyes refocused and his mind finally said enough he had left no patch of skin from wrist to elbow of both arms untouched. A patchwork of horizontal lines of varying length and depths. There was blood dripping from his arms into the shower that threatened to stain and so he turned off the water and stepped out. He patted his arms with a towel to slow their bleeding, wincing at the sting. Once they had slowed enough that it wouldn’t be a complete mess, Lucifer quickly dried off and exited the bathroom with a towel around his waist, suddenly feeling exhausted as the adrenaline left him. Quickly he realizes he’s made a mistake by not bringing a change of clothes with him, as now he’s exposed in the non-privacy of his bedroom. He only manages to get half dressed and is looking for any long sleeve shirt he owns when Chloe pokes her head in the doorway looking a bit sheepish, “Hey, now that you’re finally out, do you have some pajamas I could-” She froze, not for any of the right reasons, Lucifer’s brain chimed in, at his shirtless form. 

If you asked Lucifer, he really couldn’t tell you what exactly happened at that moment. He felt cold and clammy, his heart was pounding, he couldn’t be certain of his breathing or if his legs wouldn’t give out. Oddly the fact that Chloe was there was the least important, as his brain was hardly comprehending basic commands. He wasn’t attached to his body. This wasn’t happening. He had instantly skipped over hysterical and gone right into full disassociation. 

Chloe’s breath caught in her throat at the sight of the angry red lines on Lucifer’s arms. She had heard him getting dressed and figured it safe to poke her head in. She wasn’t expecting to see... though considering the number of times he’s actively tried to get himself killed, she should have predicted that this would happen at some point. If it hasn’t been happening for a long time already, her brain hissed. Her eyes were unfailingly drawn to the cuts. It felt surreal. Like they would go away if she blinked. It sent her mind into an uncanny valley of they don’t belong there. Noticing that Lucifer had gone very pale she scrambles to remember her police training. She’s been called to check on suicidal people before. Theoretically, she should know what to do.

She takes a step forward towards Lucifer. Lucifer takes a step back. Alright, bad first move. He looked like a cornered animal, body tensed as if to defend himself. Chloe reminded herself that Lucifer was certainly more scared than she was right now. Chloe bit the bullet and spoke first. “Where do you keep the first aid kit?” Practical. Not challenging. Lucifer blinked in shock and made a vague gesture back towards the bathroom. Chloe gave a curt nod, mostly to reassure herself and calm the twitchy habit of her hands. She just has to project confidence.  
“Sit down, I’ll be right back.”  
To her mild shock, Lucifer sat on the bed with no protest. Chloe moved quickly for the first aid kit only pausing briefly to wet a washcloth and sweep the discarded razorblade and bloody towel into the trash can, making a mental note to take it out later. (It doesn’t seem great to have a reminder of relapsing when you’ve only just gone through it.) 

Lucifer was right where she had left him. He looked like he was hardly breathing, his hands were twisted into his hair as he stared down unseeing. The panic Chloe had been pushing away started creeping in from the edges of her mind. She approached slowly. “Lucifer…? Can you hear me?” A pause and then a short stiff nod, never raising to make eye contact. “Can I sit next to you?” Lucifer tenses, somehow managing to look more anxious before nodding anyway. Chloe tucks her feet up on the bed and surveys the first aid kit. She fumbles around, placing the washcloth next to her and pulling out some antibiotic ointment for the deeper cuts as well as a roller bandage.

They were both silent as Chloe wrapped the bandage. A few times around the wrist, then spiraling upwards, overlapping about a half inch each time. Cut the end of bandage and tape, repeat for the other arm. Check they aren’t too loose or too tight. Pack up and put away kit. Return to a still shell-shocked Lucifer. Try not to panic.

**Author's Note:**

> comments and feedback give me life please sustain me
> 
> next (probably concluding) chapter to follow hopefully soon


End file.
